It Happened in the Highlands(42)

Before they left for the Abbey, Wynne had them send for Dr. McKendry.

Struck down by apoplexy from the shock she'd brought on herself, Mrs.  Barton was attended by physicians, first by Dermot and then from the  village and from Aberdeen. After two days, their diagnosis was hardly  optimistic. The old woman was conscious, for she could blink her  responses to simple questions even though she could not speak. But she'd  been left with no ability to move or perform the simplest of tasks.  Leana Barton would lie in her bedchamber indefinitely, stripped of the  dignity of living as she had lived, sentenced to imprisonment within her  own mind.

After what had occurred at Tilmory Castle, Jo was relieved when her  father expressed his wish to remain at the Abbey. Charles had given up  Tilmory Castle as his home long ago.

Rooms for him had been arranged near her in the north wing. With the  assistance of an attendant, she was certain she could manage his ongoing  recovery.

Charles faltered in his efforts to speak, a continuing problem that  frustrated him. But when the words failed him, he picked up his pen and  wrote out his wishes, for his comprehension was improving daily. His  memory contained great lapses, but Dermot told him not to despair.  Others before him had recovered fully, and they would keep at it.

Three days later, Graham asked for an opportunity to explain his side of  things, so Jo and Wynne took her father by carriage back to Tilmory  Castle.

"There could be no punishment worse than what your mother has been  sentenced," Graham said to Charles. They were sitting in the library  again, and a steady rain was beating against the windows.

"For myself," Graham continued with a glance at the others, "I fear for my everlasting soul."

Jo was stunned by the change in the man in such a short time. Since  their first meeting a fortnight ago, his straight back was bent with  age, and he favored one leg when he walked. The lines on his face were  deeper. His eyes had lost their fire.

"For years you stayed away from Tilmory Castle, from your mother and  me," Graham said in a hushed tone. "I know you thought we drove  Josephine away. And you were right. Your mother bullied and threatened  her until she ran, but I'm as responsible for it. I stood by in silence,  tending to my work overseeing the farms, even though I knew what the  lass was suffering. I did nothing to stop it. I didn't raise a finger to  help her until it was too late."

Charles would not look at Graham, and he said nothing.

"M'lady, your introduction to this family, to your own family has been .  . ." The older man faltered and moved restlessly in his chair,  searching for the right word to say to Jo. "Ghastly. But before I say  another thing, I need to tell you how sorry I am for treating you as I  did the day we met at the Abbey, and for wrongly holding my tongue since  then."

"What I have to forgive is nothing compared to what you did to my mother  and my father. It was their futures that you destroyed."

"I know," he said grimly. "I know."

More than apologies, she wanted answers. "Two brothers and a sister. My  father has conveyed to me some of our family history. What he can  recall."

Perhaps it was the day Charles jumped into the pond hoping to save her.  Or earlier, when Stevenson was released from his night restraints and  dealt her father a blow as he slept. Perhaps it was the accumulation of  many things, or even just the passage of time. There was no way to know,  but a fog had cleared in her father's mind and he was undoubtedly  improving. And wanting to spend time with Jo, talking of the past, was  his favorite pastime these days.

"You were the youngest," she continued. "You've remained a bachelor your  entire life, serving the family at Tilmory Castle. And I know that  Mary, my grandmother, was the middle child. She was married and lived on  a farm in Garloch, where she gave birth to Josephine."                       
       
           



       

One day, she'd like to see that place. Ezekiel Sellar had invited them when they met, but there wasn't time then.

"What I can't understand is why Mrs. Barton hated my mother so," she  told him. "It can't simply be she was jealous of the attention of other  men in her family."

The older man stared into the air for a long moment. Jo's father had  hinted to her that Graham never married because he'd always loved Leana  Barton.

"It was . . ." Graham finally broke the silence. "You have to understand  it was her need to be the center of things, to control everyone. That's  what drove her always. She was raised in the fashionable society of  Edinburgh. She always threw it in Ainsley's face that she married down  in marrying a Highlander."

How much pain in the world was caused by the religious belief in the  superiority of the rich with its oblivious ignorance, its warped and  misplaced values, and its tawdry fashions.

"Arriving here at Tilmory Castle, she saw all of us as a challenge. Her  intention from the very first was to elevate the Bartons to a place that  was deserving of her. And that's where she immediately ran into trouble  with Mary. She was set on marrying Sellar. He was a gentleman, but  still a farmer. Leana had other plans. She saw our sister being sent off  to Edinburgh and introduced into finer society. But Mary got what she  wanted and married for love in the end."

Jo had learned from her father that the first time he met Josephine was  when she came to live at Tilmory Castle after her parents died. This  explained the families' estrangement.

"Ainsley and I thought the bad blood died with the passing of  Josephine's parents," Graham told her. "But we soon learned different  when your mother arrived here at Tilmory Castle. She had the temperament  of an angel. Cheerful and kind. It was impossible not to love her. But  of course, Leana saw nothing but our sister, Mary, in her, and she was  after her from the very first day."

Thirteen, a difficult age. Not a child and not completely a woman. Jo  now knew that her mother lost both parents and came under this roof when  she was thirteen years old. A year later, she lost Ainsley, her uncle  and guardian.

Graham's attention shifted back to Charles. "I knew about you two. I saw  how your feelings for each other grew more with time. I lived in dread  of the day your mother saw it too. For I knew Josephine would be facing  so much more trouble."

Charles started saying something but, overwhelmed with emotion, he  couldn't utter the words. Instead, he scribbled them on a sheet of  paper.

"We married on her sixteenth birthday in Garloch," Wynne read as he sat by Jo's father.

He wrote more and passed it on again.

"I was to retire from the service. Return to Scotland," Wynne read again.

Jo knew this already. Her father's plan was to leave the navy. They  wanted to settle as soon as her mother was old enough to control her own  inheritance.

"War," Charles said, his eyes pooling.

He'd also told her that they were planning to leave Tilmory Castle and  live on the farm her parents had left to her. They wanted to raise a  family in peace.

"You were off fighting the rebels in America when your mother found out  that Josephine was with child," Graham said. "Of course, the lass  proudly told her the two of you were married, that it was your bairn she  was carrying. But you knew all along that Leana had other plans for who  you'd be marrying."

"Her . . . plans," Charles hissed. "Not mine."

He wrote ferociously on the paper and handed it to Wynne.

"Your job was to protect my Josephine."

Hot and bitter tears welled up in Jo's eyes as she imagined the abuse her mother must have endured at the hands of Mrs. Barton.

Graham's body began to rock forward and backward in his chair, his  anguished gaze was fixed on a vacant space on a far wall. He was  remembering it all, she thought angrily.

"Why did she run away?" she asked, forcing Graham's attention.

"Leana lied to her. I didn't know what she'd done until after the lass  was gone." He stared at Charles. "She told Josephine you were dead. That  your ship went down, and you were lost with the rest."                       
       
           



       

His rocking increased, and his face was about to crumble.

"She told the lass she would take her bairn away from her, fix it so no  one would ever know of the marriage. Then she'd turn her out into the  fields for a whore. So she ran away. It was just what Leana wanted."

And where would Josephine go, but her own home.

"And I swear to you, I had no part of that. I had no idea your mother  would stoop to a deceit so low. A terrible storm had been battering us  for days. The third in as many weeks. When I came back to the castle,  the poor thing was gone. And when I heard what happened from servants  who were there, I knew what they said was true."